


Out in the dark

by StrawberryNinja



Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One), Transformers - All Media Types, Transformers: Prime
Genre: Cave-In, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Whump
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-18
Updated: 2020-08-18
Packaged: 2021-03-05 21:27:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,116
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25972093
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StrawberryNinja/pseuds/StrawberryNinja
Summary: promp fill: Arcee / Prowl / desperationA younger Arcee doesn`t quite understand what makes the Autobot forces follow Prowl with such undying trust.The aftermath of battle traps them both underground while wounded and Arcee finds out just what binds their army together.
Comments: 1
Kudos: 25





	Out in the dark

**Author's Note:**

> A cave-in story. A bit of a mashup between Prime and G1. I like the Prime Arcee- this one here felt a bit younger and less experienced than the one we see on the show. hope ypu enjoy!

When she onlined it was dark, truly dark.

/Move!/ Urgency shot through her, jolting her awake.

Arcee tried to push up and fell back with a groan. Or at least it would have been a groan if her voice box had not started sparking. It felt as if liquid fire was crawling through her helmet, worst on the right side, dripping over her face and pooling in her neck. A sharp stab in her lower chassis added to the acid that seemed to eat through her struts. Arcee let her helmet rest on the ground.

Basics first. Optics.

The world revealed itself slowly, the right side remained dark. Arce hissed through her denta as the damage reports finally registered. She would not be walking out of here. "Wherever here is." She thought.

Dirt was just above her, a very, very shallow cavern, only lit by a dim pink glow. Arce jerked, pedes scrambling. She made it halfway upright before pain washed over here, tearing through her sensory net. This time a scream made it through before her voice box shortened out.

She tried to activate her lights and promptly wished she hadn’t. She was enclosed by packed dirt and stones.

Her com-links, what were her orders?... Offline. Probably damaged with her right optic. She dared not feel for the damage. At least not yet.

The femme shuttered her left optic, very carefully leaving the right one alone. “Primus.” She whispered... trying to calm her spark. What had happened? There had been a battle. The de-cepticons.

“A canyon.” Arcee’s lips formed. She did not wish to set her voice box on fire again.

She had been ordered to… A sharp throb rolled through her… Arcee balled her servo’s, focus she told herself, felt the wires tighten, then released and concentrate on the feeling, loose, light… A deep vent brought dust. She coughed, setting off another flash of pain.

She had been guarding the tactics squad. There had been…

A groan to her left. Arcee’s servos immediately flew to her subspace. Her gun was gone. “Slag!”

A servo moved to her left, a warbled groan. Arcee bit her glossa. What to do? It could be anyone. Who could tell who had been buried with her?. She reached for a short knife. Usually reserved for the odd crafting or unpacking, not even remotely long or sharp enough for her tastes in weapons, especially not now, but she would make do with what she had.

She crawled over, the ceiling not high enough to walk, not even high enough to crouch. She stretched out her EM field, trying to get a teek and received pain, but also a surprising amount of focus. The servo moved, dirt shifting to reveal black and white plating.  
“Sir!” Arcee reached forward, first carefully, then as she confirmed the identity, she stored the knife and started digging with both servo’s. She had freed her CO’s helmet, his right arm and a good part of his chassis as she hit a large boulder. For a moment her vents stalled, but systems going into overdrive made her temperature skyrocket.

“It is being held up by something." Prowl said. Even his stoic voice sounding scratchy. He reset his voice box.

Arcee reached out, trying to feel where she couldn’t see. The boulder moved, she pulled back her servo’s, metal scraped over metal. She hissed as deep grooves were carved into her plating, blank metal shimmered in the dim light of her one dirty, working light.

“Do not move it before I we do not have more data.”

“Yes sir.” Arcee rasped out, wincing as more sparks flew from her neck. She felt the blue op-tics of Prowl scanning her up and down.

“Your voice box is damaged. Why are you not using your coms?” he asked, voice slightly un-steady, vents stalling.

“Damaged Sir.” She replied tersely, as low as she dared to. Her servo wandered to the side of her helmet but winced when she so much as ghosted over the plating, or where her plating should have been.

“Acknowledged.” Prowl replied tersely. “I am broadcasting an emergency signal but am not picking a reply up.”

Arcee forced her plating to lift, trying to expel the heat from her damaged systems.

“My receiver is also reading error messages.” The mech on her left said. “It might very well be that they have already received our signal.” Arcee shuttered her left optic, surprised, that had almost sounded as if… Prowl answered her look with a calm nod. … that had sounded as if he was trying to lift her spirit.

“Soldier, we will get out of this.” He told her, voice as firm as he could make it.

Arcee swallowed. “Yes Sir.” She whispered, once again wincing as the fire flared up.

“Try not to strain your voice.” Sometimes she forgot that under the stoic, coldly calculating tactician there was a mech, just like any other of her comrades, well nearly. Arcee remembered the battle computer. The one thing that had saved the autobots time and time again.

“Understood Sir.” Arcee scanned the prone form of the autobot’s second in command. Once again, her vents closed. Pink energon was starting to creep out under his chassis. “Sir…” Arcee started, reaching for his hip, feeling, twisting her torso to get her light to illuminate the area better. A stab shot through her. She sank to the side, her helmet scrabbled over the ceil-ing. Pain shot up, swallowed her whole. She onlined. Darkness. If she held still nothing but hurt. Arcee took a vent, as deep as she dared. She had to get up. 

Had to do something.

A servo squeezed her left arm.

“Stay still Arcee.” Prowl. Her cortex supplied.

It was dark again as she onlined her right optic, more error messages had joined the ones al-ready clamouring for her attention. “Sir?” She rasped, her optic adjusted a very soft glow filled the limited space around them. Energon. Arcee pushed back on her elbows, systems trying to run hot, but first warnings flashed up, urging her to refuel. Why? She wondered dazed. It should not have been that long.

“You are losing Energon.” Prowl stated. Arcee wondered, scrolling through the error messag-es. Ah yes, an energon line had taken shrapnel damage. Too deep inside. She hissed.

“Can’t clamp it myself Sir.” She hissed, already reaching for her med kit in her subspace. “You are injured too.”

Her self-repair system was trying to tackle everything at once, she shunted it towards the en-ergon leak in her abdomen. Relatively small, but so far it hadn’t closed and she was still losing the precious liquid. Arcee reached for the kit, trying to structure it, what would they need? Not much could be done for her injuries, what about his? A clamp, a transfusion line was care-fully laid on a piece of sterile mesh.

“Correct.” Prowl said. "The leak is coming from my left leg. There is no way for you to move the weight of this boulder on your own.”

Arcee balled her servo into a fist, clenching down tight. She wanted to rant, wanted to rage, but there was no space, was no way she could act like that, not in front of a comrade, not in front of the third in command of the entire autoboot army!

“Than a transfusion.” She decided. In any other surrounding her voice would have been too low to be audible to any sensor, Here, in the absolute darkness, all compassing silence of the little cave Prowl heard her and shook his helmet.

“Negative.”

“Arcee shot up, froze and whimpered in pain. It seemed there was no inch of plating undam-aged. “Sir.” She forced out.

“You have been offline for the better part of a joor.” He stated, cold voice offset by a field that brushed against hers.

Rarely had she come close enough to teek his EM field. It was surprisingly supportive. Arcee mused, leaning into it before snapping back. “Sir.„ An apology lay on her tongue but she swallowed it.

“You have been losing energon at a slow but steady rate. We cannot risk you giving me a transfusion.” He stated. Arcee shuttered her optic.

She took stock of the situation. What was her goal? To get them out of this cave? What did she have? A simple med kit. No transfusions, mostly mesh, transfusion line, pain chips, one ration… it was a simple field kit, no trauma set.

She had no com, no way to stem the energon leaking from her commander, no way to reach her line and as long as she continued to leak, she could not give Prowl a transfusion. As long as she kept still Arcee mused, it did not hurt too badly.

A servo laid on her her arm. The only place Prowl could touch. Arcee onlined her good, well mildly cracked optic again.

“Your input?” He asked. “You seemed to have an idea." He added.

Arcee nodded. She cracked open the cube. "We need energon." She stated. “As long as I can-not give you a transfusion, we need to hope this will give your system a boost.”

“Part for you.” Prowl insisted, a shaking servo reaching for the cube. No way he would be holding it.

Arcee steeled herself for helping Prowl, Prowl himself to drink. “Right now, he is only another comrade.” She told herself as she reached for his helmet. Her gaze only now recognizing the odd angle his helmet laid at. Of course. His door wings. Arcee’s entire plating crawled, her processor stalling. She could not imagine that agony.

“Yes.” Prowl nudged her servo, clumsily trying to get her to move the cube closer. Arcee, shook her helmet, bit her glossa as the fire flared back up. Bad idea she thought.

She held a steadying hand und Prowl’s helmet, allowed him to guide the cube with weak, but surprisingly steady servo to his mouth. It was not the first time she helped another mech fuel, but rarely had it felt this awkward. When Prowl had emptied half, he started to pull back. Arcee held the cube in place.

“You are the third in command.” She whispered, desperately wishing for a pain chip. Her voice box sparked, giving a little flicker of light over the energon stained, claustrophobic scene.

“And you are under my command.” Prowl answered. “And you are losing energon also.”

Despite his words Arcee could see the need in his optics, could feel the demand of his body for the energon in his field. She pressed the cube closer.

“I will have a part Sir.” She whispered. “But you need it more.” Silence hung between them, unbearably slow, just before Prowl opened his mouth and started drinking in carefully measured sips. After he had drained three quarters he pulled back.  
“Enough.” He finally said. “You are losing energon as well.”

It was final. Arcee did not argue. The pings from her system for fuel had become more in-sistent. Not quite a low fuel warning yet, but coming closer, and fast.

Arcee forced her vents to work, shuffled to the side, carefully sipped at the energon. Her tanks welcomed the fuel, her boy knew she needed it, but still it sat heavy in her tanks as she shook the last droplets from the corner. Arcee swallowed. Venting carefully, hoping she would not purge. “I need to put pressure on this. “She mumbled. “Pain ship for you?” She fumbled with the chips, already pulling one out as Prowl triggered one port to open. His field teeked first of gratitude, then of relief.

Arcee could feel the numbing effect almost immediately as she reached slid her chip into its slot. With trepidation she tore of several squares of gauze. She would need that.

She needed to clamp the line, clean out the debris before it invaded her lines… and take care of her com system. Arcee’s servos shook, hovering over her plating. Stones fell and plinked off Prowl’s plating.

She angled her headlight differently, her computer running several calculations at once. Shak-ing servos stuffed the gauze back into its container.

“Arcee?” Prowl inquired, voice sounding clearer and his EM field stronger against hers. The Pain chip was working.

“I think I found a way to at least free your upper body Sir.” Arcee ran her servo tips over the boulders. “Sorry Sir.” She leaned over Prowl, standing on the tip of her pedes, trying to reach behind a boulder.

“I think this should be loose enough to shift. It already moved when you shifted.”

Prowl’s optics flickered, the dust in their confined space lit up.

“Sir?” Arce shifted back to her pedes, dropped to her knees. Her plating jarred and she hissed as several warnings flashed across her HUD. “Your optics.”

Amusement lapped against her field. “Energy fluctuations due to my battle processor.” The barest twist of a smile ghosted across his face. “Nothing to be concerned about.”

He raised his servo, a port flicking open. “I would ask for your data for a more complete assessment of the situation.”

A polite request instead of an order. A hard-line was more intimate than a data burst, but with both of their com systems shot the only way of transmitting. Arcee slicked down her plating and compromised the data as neatly as she could before plugging the cable in. The touch of Prowl’s mind against hers was brief, but deeper than their EM fields. He was calm, professional but Arcee could feel the pain gnawing at him and the claustrophobia and a certain, spark-deep care. The burst ended. Arcee snapped her port closed, servos shaking, even if she had been able to speak as she wanted, she would not have been able to describe just why this concern had her so rattled. Must be the damage to her cranium.

Prowls optics flickered again, the light reflected by the many dust particles in the small space. Arcee forced herself to vent, trying to bring down her temperature. Their self-repair was working overtime and the space was heating up rapidly.

“Would you like a second pain-chip Sir?” She asked, already fumbling for one. “I didn’t realise how much you hurt…” A strange look on his face made her hesitate. Had that been too familiar? It probably was, she could have smacked herself.

“No.” Prowl answered, field already retreating further into his plating. “I need a clear proces-sor for calculations and our communications.”

He send a data burst to her and Arcee shuttered her good optic, silently congratulating herself on remembering to leave her left optic alone. They were very specific instructions on how to remove which stone. “Sir?” Some of her surprise must have filtered through the cable. Amusement flooded back and Arcee recoiled mentally, expecting chastisement from the stern officer. Quickly she rolled up the data cable.

“No need.” This time, Prowl smiled really. It was short but gave his optics a warm feeling. “I worked in the enforcers before…” He hesitated for a moment, then continued. “Before the war. Part of my duties was with search and rescue. I never deleted the algorithms.”

Arcee nodded and then rose to her pedes again or tried to. The ceiling only allowed for a crouch. Dust and particles showered down, clinking off her plating. Arcee pulled her head to her chest, shuddering.

She called the plan up to her HUD and followed it to the sigil. Every stone sent pebbles tum-bling down. Each time something shifted Arcee’s vents stalled, halting until all had settled down. The load across her officer had lessened, a big stone was the worst obstacle. Had things shifted too much? Should she ask Prowl to run the calculations again? Arcee glanced over to the puddle of energon. Had it grown larger? Did they have the time?

“Go on. The calculations are still good.” Prowl encouraged her, the field lapping across hers. She glanced down, seeing his servo shifting as if wanting to pet her pede, but Prowl curled them into a fist. Arcee bit her glossa and tried to grasp a smaller stone. She needed to find a good handhold before moving the boulder. It could not fall and injure Prowl further. Something shifted, let loose a cascade of dirt. The biggest stone across his bumper tumbled.

“Slag the unmaker!” Arcee dove forward, braced the boulder. Her lines screamed. Arcee fumbled, servos scratching desperately over the stone. She bit down and heaved. Dirt rained over her pedes. She heard Prowl sputter, trying to twist out of the way.

Metal screeched. Something gave.

Searing pain flooded her sensor net. Arcee flung herself forward, pushed the boulder away from them. She hit the dirt over Prowl, went down in a tumble if stones. Her headlights flickered, light dimmed.

For a moment everything faded out in black and white static.

Than sound and sight started again. “Arcee.” Prowl’s headlights were on, leaning across her as much as his pinned legs allowed. Something hissed, he grabbed her, wiped across her abdomen. “Arcee!” Louder this time.

“Sir.” Arcee tried to sit up but sank back down with a barely suppressed whimper. It hurt.

“You need to shift. The line has ruptured. I need to stop it.”

Arcee somehow realised she was faceplate down, her hood over her commander’s abdomen. Even leaking energon she felt her faceplates burning. For a moment her processor disconnected from her body and she knew she should be mortified. 

She shifted, other servos aiding her scuffle backwards, and pain light up her sensors. Her vents whistled as overheated systems tried to draw in air. For long moments that sound was all she heard.

Arcee came back to herself with Prowl twisting over her, servos deep under her plating. 

“Easy soldier.” Prowl intoned, “only a moment longer. Help is on the way.”

Something twanged, Arcee felt her tanks twisting, sending hot energon up her intake. She swallowed it down, it burned in her throat, tried to focus on Prowl’s flickering optics. Had he given her another pain chip? How long had she been out? Things started to swim out of focus again. Arcee rebooted her optics just as Prowl pulled his servos out. 

He let out a deep vent, door wings scraped over stone. He stalled and Arcee grimaced in sympathy as the tactician carefully lowered himself down again. 

“No.” He stated. 

Arcee was thoroughly confused. “What?” And slowly but surely fed up with the way this orn was going. It should have been a standard skirmish, not this mess. 

“I did not give you another pain chip. Your systems are running under stress anyway.” His optics flickered. He drew in a vent, flinched. Air whistled over a dry radiator.

“Sir?” Arcee hoisted herself up on her hands, trying to shift her weight away from Prowl. Heat rose from both of their struggling systems. She slipped, somehow managed to twist her-self to the side and hissed at the jarring. As soon as her systems allowed her to draw air in again. 

Prowl`s optics flickered, servos were searching out hers. “Help is coming.” He croaked. “Hang on soldier.” 

She struggled to get up, swore lunar one down from the skies as her CO`s optics shut down and his field became eerily still. 

The only glow came from her functional optic, and from the energon pooling beneath them. “Sir!” Her shout echoed from the rocks. She could not, she could not let this happen. 

Her training kicked in, code overwriting emotional response. “Panic will kill you.” Ironhides voice droned in her mind, she could almost feel the heavy field of the mech bearing down her plating,  
Arcee bit her glossa, desperately willing her sensors to work while her servos fumbled to find the problem…

“There.” She pried up a loose piece on Prowls abdomen, the praxian barely flinched. 

“Sorry Sir.” She whispered, swiped her trembling fingers beneath, following the trail of the brightest energon. They came back bright, Energon and coolant coating them. 

She twisted, garbled static burst from her vocaliser as stones and movement tugged at hastily patched lines. Finally, the medkit spilled it`s remaining treasures. She wrapped bandaged over the obvious leaks, smeared coolant along the lines and finally collapsed on her side, panting. 

As the burning in her cables died down Arcee gathered her courage, Prowl`s field was too still. A part of her hoped the aid would have showed improvement, but he showed no change. 

Her optics burned, sensors still only brought back errors. Gravel scraped over damaged plating as Arcee twisted her head, trying to see if something had changed. Her remaining optic flickered. Prowl`s faceplate slack, optics dark. Arcee shuttered her optic, had to stop a sudden keen from welling up. Suddenly the stones seemed to press down on her, gave her no room to vent, no room to move, not even a wriggle.

“Hang on, hang on he said.” She whispered. Had Prowl received an answer? Had he simply believed rescue would come? Arcee`s servos searched out the med kit. He was their most bril-liant tactician, many voices said that without him the decepticons would advance, would win. 

The femme onlined her optics again. She could do something, something to boost his chances. Something to boost the autobots chances. She could barely sit up anymore, so she had to drag the kit closer, shaking servos fitted the line and then she laid down, watched the numbers on her HUD trickle down. Arcee vented and shut down any unnecessary systems. 

Later.

Stones shifted, voices sounded. 

Violent, explosive swearing before, finally, silence.  
\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------  
Arcee felt the energon link moving, grimaced, things should not move like this. Finally she onlined her optics, winced again, onlined her good optic, keeping the other one forcefully offline. 

White and red plating, heavy plating buffering the heat of her systems and a very well known field washed over her and Prowl.  
Arcee smiled. “Ratchet” She croaked.

The medic continued working, clipped a transfusion both to her and to Prowl`s arm. Only then did he shift, kneeled besides her. As grave as his face was, as much as the lack of threats and flying wrenches unnerved her, his field was warm and calming. Arcee felt the warm wash of fresh energon in her lines. 

“Arcee.” A warm servo cupped her face. “What by the balls of unicron possessed you to fit that line?”

In a movement she would later violently deny Arcee pressed against Ratchet`s servo`s.

“He lost consciousness.” She whispered. “I tried to seal the leaks, but his doorwings.” Arcee shuddered. ”I didn`t know the full extent of his damages. We need him. It was the best shot for both of us.”

Movement behind Ratchet, he pulled back, answered something. 

Arcee reached up, servo fluttered against his plating. Desperate, she needed for him to under-stand. Ratchet stopped, looked down upon her.

“I couldn`t just do nothing. Couldn`t just watch.” She whispered and finally Ratchet smiled.

Both of the injured autobots were hoisted upon a stretcher, half dragged, half lifted out of the rubble. It was a haze for Arcee, Primus only knew what Ratchet had added to the cocktail in her lines.

Outside they rested. As the daylight stung in her functional optic a medic fed Arcee med-grade in addition to her drip. A disgusting mixture of condensed energon and coolant, but her body craved it. 

Her servo coiled around the cube, still held by the medic and Arcee tried to gulp the mix down. How could something so disgusting seem so good?

A wet chuckle sounded to her left. Arcee stopped, coming out of her stupor for a klik. 

Her helmet, still cradled by the medic, twisted to the left, where Prowl was propped up. Ratchet crouched over him, servos deep in the tacticians chest.

“The body knows what it needs.” The praxian whispered. Optics dim but online.

Arcee blinked, wondered for a moment if Prowl had suddenly gained the power to mind read, or if the cable was still linked. Then she realised she had said it out loud. 

“Oh.” She said and mentally groaned at herself. Ratchet must realls have given her the good pain patches. 

Prowl smiled, Arcee double checked her optic. Yes, one was still functioning, yes she was using the correct one. An honest-to-Primus smile from Prowl. Ratchet must have given both of them the good patches.

“Thank you.” Prowl said and reached out to her. “You risked a lot with that transfusion. Thank you.”

Arcee grasped his servo, teeked his field, subdued, heavy with the feel of exhaustion and drugs, but alive. She grasped his servo tightly. 

“Always Sir.” She whispered.

**Author's Note:**

> Sooo... Basically it`s been a while for me. this fic has been sitting on my computer for some time while i debated about weather or not I want/should get back to writing.  
> Some feedback would be apprechiated. Hope you have a nice day!


End file.
